


i jumped into the water

by Katraa



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hibiki likes to wax poetry, Hibiki pines, M/M, Something about talking rocks, Their bedroom windows face each other, Yamato is sarcastic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/pseuds/Katraa
Summary: It isn’t until you’re seventeen - a year before now - that you realize you have a crush on him.  You aren’t sure when it happens but it does.  One day, when you look at him, your heart skips a beat.  One day, you daydream about touching his face, his hair.  One day, you realize how beautiful his voice is and how smart he is and the fact that he looks insanely beautiful when he wears tight shirts.childhood au:in which hibiki pines over the boy next door who also happens to be his best friend and heir to some fancy company.





	i jumped into the water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [habenaria_radiata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/habenaria_radiata/gifts).



> who am i?  
> it's 3:20 in the morning and i felt inspired to write this in one go.  
> it's entirely un-beta'd so sorry folks.
> 
> my thirst knows no limits.  
> i should be sorry but i'm not.  
> enjoy this light-hearted get-together.
> 
> ps this song is titled after the amazing song "water" by ra ra riot.

The sound of a pebble hitting glass resonates in the quiet of the night and Hibiki Kuze makes a mental note to google “accidental vandalism” before bed.

Instead, he sits on the small perch outside his window. His bedroom light is off and the dim light from the street is enough to make it clear what is shingle and the void. This is fine. He’s done this a million times to date and one more time won’t hurt. So he sits. He sits with his knees hugged to his chest and his cheek on the crest of one and waits.

And waits.

And throws another pebble.

And another.

Finally, the window across the small alley opens and there’s a very tired, very beautiful boy leaning against the windowsill.

“Hibiki.”

“Hi,” Hibiki whispers with the cheekiest grin in the world.

“It’s nearly midnight,” the voice deadpans.

Hibiki hums and lolls his head to the side so that it is his chin instead that is upon his knee. It’s easier to scrutinize the beautiful boy in the window this way, he thinks. “Did you finish your report yet?”

“Yes,” answers the boy in exasperation, “Hours ago. I was asleep.”

“Really?” There’s a giggle and Hibiki bites his lip. “Don’t you never sleep? Isn’t your mantra that sleep is for the weak and work is never done?”

“I’m not a robot, Hibiki. I need rest from time to time,” sighs the boy but his gaze softens just a fraction. A pale hand reaches up and tucks a lock of light hair behind his ear. “If that is all, I am going back to bed.”

“Yamato,” whines Hibiki and he wiggles a foot off the edge of his roof. “I’m bored and lonely. Stay up with me? Please?”

“It’s late.”

“And I’m bored, yeah, we’ve been over this.” A bright smile.

“Consider using your phone like a normal person next time instead of resorting to chucking pebbles at my window and perhaps I will consider entertaining you in the future.”

“Yamato!”

“Goodnight, Hibiki,” Yamato reiterates, his tired eyes sparkling with mischief. His hand strays and reaches for the lip of the window once more, one swift shove away from shutting it. But he waits. Because he always does. He always waits for Hibiki Kuze.

“Okay, okay I’ll tell you,” grumbles Hibiki and he turns his cheek back to his knees, eyes flicking away from his friend’s open window. “I sort of… didn’t do so well on my entrance exams. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t so bad but I don’t think I have a chance at University now.”

“...Nonsense,” Yamato answers after a poignant pause. His hand falls away from the window. 

“It was bad.”

“How bad?”

“Devastating,” Hibiki groans and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly. “What jobs are there that don’t require University? I’ll do that. Maybe I’ll sell myself to the Black Market. That sounds fun. I’ve always been good at sneaking around.”

“Hibiki,” Yamato says and his voice commands Hibiki’s attention. Weakly, blue eyes flutter open and take in the way the street light’s cast shadow on his friend’s face. “You will be fine. Your marks make up for a poor exam score. You will find a University.”

“Mrrr…” Hibiki slams his forehead down on his kneecaps. “I just…”

“Get some rest. We’ll discuss this in the morning.”

“Ok. I’ll .. text you,” Hibiki decides and he looks up to meet Yamato’s gaze. The usually bored and cool expression is warm and he swallows despite himself. Yamato nods.

“Goodnight, Hibiki,” repeats Yamato once more and Hibiki lets him shut the window this time. 

When he’s certain Yamato is gone, Hibiki shivers. His body trembles and he bites his tongue so that he won’t let loose the fiery tears in his eyes. Eighteen year old boys don’t cry. And those same boys certainly don’t cry over petty things like screwing up an exam. He’s better than this. His grades are good, as Yamato reminded him, and this isn’t the end of the world. There’s just one problem.

“No way I’ll get into a University you’ll want to go to, too,” whispers Hibiki to the stagnant night air.

* * * 

“Hibiki.”

“Mm?”

“I thought we agreed that you would use the phone this time,” Yamato scolds and Hibiki can’t help the way his laughter fills the otherwise desolate alleyway. He thinks he hears a stray cat scurry away below but he can’t be certain.

“You were ignoring my texts,” argues Hibiki as his tongue pokes out between his lips.

“I was doing my homework,” Yamato says and he leans his weight on his elbow, the pointy end dangling off the windowsill. He doesn’t bother climbing out his window to the mirror-image sill that Hibiki is sprawled on. He isn’t a savage.

“You’re always working,” groans Hibiki. “When was the last time we went out to the mall?”

“I don’t like the mall.”

“The movies?”

“It’s a waste of money. We can easily watch something similar for free in the comfort of one of our homes.”

“Are you seventeen or seventy?” scoffs Hibiki and he reaches for one of the pebbles that’s innocently sitting on his perch. He tosses the stone back and forth and _smirks_ when Yamato’s eyes widen.

“Hibiki, no.”

“Say, Mister Rock, should my best friend stop working himself to death and hang out with me this weekend?” Hibiki rubs the stone and has the audacity to lift it to his ear. He jiggles his palm. “ _Yes, Kuze! I think your stuffy friend should do that! After all, he owes you takoyaki and it’s almost his birthday!_ ”

Yamato looks entirely uncomfortable with this impromptu charade. So naturally Hibiki continues.

“Why thank you, Rock! That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Because the rock is Hibiki. “Should I treat him to a movie, too? I know he’s against them, like a common criminal, but I’ll be paying so he can’t complain.”

Yamato opens his mouth but Hibiki cuts him off.

“ _That’s a dashing idea, sir! The very best!_ ”

“Why does the rock have a british accent, Hibiki?”

“ _I am not British, Kuze’s Best Friend! I am from Ireland, the land of kilts and beer!_ ”

Yamato sighs audibly.

“Yes, he is very uncultured, I know. I will apologize on his grumpy but handsome behalf,” Hibiki says and doesn’t miss the way Yamato’s brows furrow, the way his forehead creases and gears turn and turn but never get fully in motion as Hibiki loudly continues, “You see, Yamato is just the son of a really wealthy family and he’s going to own and operate their business one day. So he’s super important and has no time for such ‘civilian garbage’ like movies!”

“I never called them that,” Yamato pipes in but he knows this isn’t the end of this rant so he just presses the pads of his fingers hard into his temples and waits it out. Just like he’s been doing the past ten years.

“ _Eh?! That’s unbelieve, Kuze! Movies are wonderful!_ ” Hibiki waggles his brows and tosses the rock a sidelong glance. Is the rock Canadian now, too, Hibiki? “Right? That’s what I said.” This is terrible. “ _Your friend sounds very proper and formal! You should take him to the movies and something daring! Something that breaks the mold!_ ”

Yamato has the decency to flatly meet Hibiki’s expectant gaze.

“I have just the idea!” Hibiki exclaims and he begins to stage-whisper at this junction, “I was thinking, Rock, that I could take him ice-skating since he’s never been before.”

Yamato looks surprised. Hibiki tries to ignore the way nested butterflies begin to stir in his stomach. Around that time, Hibiki finally sets the rock back down on the perch. Blue eyes, softer this time, shyly slide over to Yamato’s open window. And then Hibiki nervously smiles.

“So, do you want to? Go with me?” he formally asks, zero humor to his voice.

Yamato’s surprise melts into an expression Hibiki’s never seen before. He has no name for it. 

“Text me in the morning and I will see when I am free.”

* * * 

“It’s called ice- _skating_ , not ice-holding, silly.”

The very dignified, very graceful Yamato Hotsuin, heir to the Hotsuin brand, is clinging onto Hibiki Kuze for dear life. Gloved hands _dig_ into Hibiki’s biceps and he’s using Hibiki as an impromptu railing. It’d be endearing if Yamato weren’t taller than his best friend and all leg and arm. Skinny doesn’t begin to explain this boy.

“There is no conceivable way that when I step away my face will not meet the ice.” 

“That’s half the fun.”

Yamato isn’t buying it. Hibiki laughs and he reaches up to gently take Yamato’s hands. One by one, he pries the fingers off his forearms and holds the trembling appendages in his own. “Trust me?”

“Hibiki…” It’s a dirty, filthy trick and Hibiki knows he’s playing his best Ace.

“Trust me,” Hibiki repeats and this time it’s a declaration. 

Very gently, Hibiki slides away but keeps his right hand in Yamato’s left. Panic streaks Yamato’s expression and there’s an undignified squawk that follows. Hibiki does his best not to laugh. When Yamato finishes having a mini-stroke, he purses his lips together and determinedly slides his right foot forward. The skate scrapes against the ice in an unpleasant way and Yamato is stiff as a rail.

“You’re doing great, really,” Hibiki encourages and he squeezes the hand.

“Was this all a clever ploy to get revenge for not answering the window last night?”

“I’d never stoop so low,” Hibiki laughs and he shamelessly intertwines their fingers. Without warning, he gives a little tug and draws Yamato closer, forcing the taller boy to move his other leg. “See! You’re doing it!”

“I’m dragging my feet,” Yamato says, and quite literally that’s exactly what he’s doing. He isn’t skating he’s shaving ice. There’s a notable difference.

“Oookay, so skating isn’t your thing,” Hibiki admits and he fumbles for a second so that he can clasp both of Yamato’s once more. This time, he’s standing in front of his friend, trying to meet his nervous stare. “So I’m going to skate backward and you just do what feels natural, okay? Try not to resist or else we’re both going face-first into the ice.”

“All right…”

So Hibiki does as he promises. And eventually, Hibiki begins leading them around the small ice-skating rink. Yamato is all kinds of awkward and almost falls several times but he catches himself each time. Hibiki’s proud of his best friend and he can’t help the way he smiles the entire time. There’s something undeniably satisfying about showing Yamato, a sheltered and tutored student, the little things in life.

Hibiki pointedly ignores the way his heart _aches_ when their hands separate when they reach the gate.

* * * 

So here are the facts, as told by Hibiki Kuze.

Meet your best friend at the ripe age of eight. Your best friend is the cute kid next door who moves in and needs a babysitter for the first couple of years. Your Mom, a stay-at-home homemaker, takes this responsibility on herself and begins inviting him over after you get home from school. The kid is weird. He doesn’t play video games and refuses to play pretend with you. He thinks cloud-watching is dumb and he just wants to sit around and do _math_. So you try and find common ground. Movies? No. Television in general? No dice, you doubt he even owns a set at his own place.

You almost give up on this weird kid that’s always in your living room until one day he sits at the piano in your dining room and plays the most beautiful melody a seven year old is capable. Your heart skips a beat, you laugh, and you talk to him for hours about music and composers and your favorite songs.

So jump forward some.

You remain close friends and even though he doesn’t need a babysitter anymore because he has tutors, you seem him at least twice a week. You’re thirteen when you finally get the great idea of sitting on the lip of the roof outside your window. You throw a pebble at his window and eventually he answers.

He’s upset but you convince him this is fun and daring. He never comes out to join you but he does entertain you and talks with you.

Fast forward a few more years and you two are still friends. Best friends, probably, considering all the late night conversations and impromptu hangouts. His parents aren’t around much but your Dad isn’t either and you bond over all this free time you have and how you just don’t understand adults.

He suggests that when he takes over the company one day things will be different. He says that in an ideal world, those that are useful will be in charge. Only those that show their true value can be trusted in this world. It makes you sad. You aren’t sure why but you find yourself repeating his words in your head for the next few weeks. 

You realize two weeks later that you’re the only friend he’s ever known and that he lives in that fancy apartment all alone and that is his world, save for the glimpses of the outside you show him.

It isn’t until you’re seventeen - a year before now - that you realize you have a crush on him. You aren’t sure when it happens but it does. One day, when you look at him, your heart skips a beat. One day, you daydream about touching his face, his hair. One day, you realize how beautiful his voice is and how smart he is and the fact that he looks insanely beautiful when he wears tight shirts. 

And then one day you can’t sleep so you do what teenage boys do to fall asleep and you can’t help the way he keeps popping up in your thoughts. And it’s not your fault that you moan out his name when you finish. 

And it’s certainly not your fault that you’re in love with your best friend.

It’s all his fault.

* * * 

Hibiki idly taps his pencil against the side of his notebook. It’s snowing and the outside world is much more entertaining than the math homework in front of him. He hasn’t seen Yamato for a few days - he’s sick, apparently - and it’s been too cold and too slick outside to sit on the roof. So Hibiki’s pining. For a couple of day he’s been pining to see his best friend’s face and it’s all sorts of gay.

So he takes Yamato’s advice and calls him like a civilized human being.

Yamato answers on the second ring. “Yes?”

“Hi honey,” Hibiki giggles and he stares out his window, hoping that Yamato will appear at his own. “It’s been years since I’ve last laid my eyes on you, you know. I’m withering over here.”

“It’s been three days,” Yamato sighs and there’s a rustling on the other end of the line. “I have a cold.”

“Aw, boo that sucks,” Hibiki answers and he begins chewing the end of his pencil. “Hey, open your window for a second? I promise I’m not trying to make you catch pneumonia. I just have a note I want to toss over.”

“A note.”

“Yup, a note,” Hibiki confirms and bites down harder. “What, is that weird?”

“We’re talking right now.”

“Boring,” Hibiki answers and rips the pencil out of his mouth before he gnaws the eraser off. “Can you please?”

“All right.”

A few moments later and Yamato’s window opens. Hibiki springs to his feet and scoops up the neatly folded square and yanks his window open. Their eyes meet from across the alley and a bubble of laughter surges forward from Hibiki.

“I just realized something.”

“Hibiki, it’s cold.”

“Oh, I knew that one already,” Hibiki says as his teeth chatter. “I just realized I’ve never tried to throw something from my window at your window. You know, trying to get it inside. Rocks are one thing but this is going to take skill.”

“Then stop monologuing and do it.”

Hibiki doesn’t miss the glimmer in Yamato’s eyes at the teasing comment. With a shake of his head, Hibiki takes aim. And then fires. 

The note lands on the ground in the alley. Hibiki pouts accordingly. 

“I’m going back to bed,” sighs Yamato but he just has the decency to toss his friend one last smirk before shutting the window.

“That’s about right, yeah,” Hibiki says, gently, as he closes his own window.

* * * 

The next day, a very red-nosed and sick Yamato Hotsuin shows up on his doorstep. Or, you know, that'd be the normal thing to happen. In fact, if aliens invaded it would be more normal than what actually transpired.

What really happens is that it’s late at night and there’s a noise that breaks the silence of Hibiki’s room. Confused, Hibiki forces himself to his feet to investigate. What he finds is beyond reason and he’s very certain he’s either dreaming or he’s hit his head earlier that day at the batting cage with Daichi. Why? Because Yamato Hotsuin, the sheltered and proper heir to Hotsuin Inc., is on _his_ windowsill, covered in snow and pale and wearing far too many clothes.

“Oh my god you’re insane. You’re actually insane,” Hibiki sputters as he quickly grabs the lip of his window and shoves it open. It takes Yamato approximately two seconds to scramble inside and collapse against the wall under the window. His eyes shut and he sucks in a shaky breath.

Neither say anything.

“You just … you cleared that alley? Seriously? But there’s ice! And … and you don’t climb on roofs? And I’m so confused,” Hibiki rambles as he shuts his window and peers down at the boy on his floor, using his wall as a backrest.

Yamato isn’t answering him. The boy instead flexes his fingers to try and retrieve some of the lost warmth.

“So um, what’s the occasion? Just decided to be a dare devil?”

It’s at that precise moment that Hibiki, clad in only his boxers, realizes that Yamato’s fishing into his pockets and retrieving a piece of paper. Hibiki doesn’t have time to feel shame over his current state of undress because he recognizes the handwriting on the paper and his gut _drops_.

“Okay, so I can explain,” Hibiki begins hurriedly.

“When were you planning on telling me?”

Hibiki winces and he doesn’t miss the glare that's being shot his way. “Soon. I was going to tell you soon when your exams were over and you weren’t sick,” he promises and then ducks his head down low. “I’m not going there, Yamato. It’s just a stupid acceptance letter to a stupid school in a stupid country I don’t want to go to. My Mom made me apply. That’s all it is. _That’s_ why it was in the alley. I threw it away.”

Yamato is quiet, as if estimating how much weight he should afford each of those words. Eventually, the younger boy scoffs and crumbles the letter up in his hand once more.

“Is that really why you came over?” And risked your life? Broke every single convention?

Yamato is eerily quiet and he flicks his gaze back up to his friend. 

Hibiki doesn’t need to be a genius to know that Yamato Hotsuin found _two_ things in that alley. The butterflies uncage themselves and take flight, making it hard to breathe, to think, to blink. So Hibiki nervously laughs and tugs at a random curl in an effort to actually keep his cool.

“You weren’t… actually supposed to find that. Or read that. Ever,” Hibiki whispers and he feels his face heating up uncontrollably. “I knew I couldn’t throw that far. I just needed to get my thoughts down on paper and thought it’d be cathartic? Or something?”

Yamato tilts his head to the side further, grey eyes peering up at Hibiki from beneath fringe. It’s disarmingly attractive.

“And… you have snow in your hair,” Hibiki concludes and he very cautiously, very gently, reaches his hand out. Tentative as hell, Hibiki begins to brush the flecks of freshly fallen snow from his best friend’s hair. When the snow is gone, his hand remains, lightly carding through his damp hair that’s so unbelievably _soft_. 

Hibiki thinks better of how perverted he’s being and he’s about to pull his hand back when Yamato reaches up and _yanks_ on his wrist.

And that’s how Hibiki Kuze ended up on the floor of his own bedroom at one am, in his boxers, cold and half in the lap of the dashing Yamato Hotsuin.

“Hi?”

Yamato stares at him down his nose, meeting anxious blue eyes. Hibiki shifts but doesn’t exactly move much, his hands flat against the ground on either side of Yamato’s hips. Thankfully, most of Hibiki’s weight is off to the side and not pressing down on his fragile friend.

Things go in slow motion after that. Yamato’s hand lifts and then there’s a slender finger sliding under Hibiki’s chin. After that, there’s a gentle nudge of Hibiki’s chin and their gazes meet properly, Hibiki’s head tilted up enough to allow it to happen.

The realization that Yamato is here because of that note belatedly crashes into Hibiki’s thoughts.

“Cute,” Yamato decides, as if he’s evaluating some sort of artifact and has just decided on an apt description. 

“Cute? Excuse me, I’m handsome,” Hibiki begins to argue but he’s immediately shut up by a pair of soft lips against his.

Yamato Hotsuin kisses him softly, hand slipping back into his messy curls. Yamato Hotsuin kisses him with a warmth that Hibiki’s never felt in his life. Yamato Hotsuin sits on his messy floor in his shoddy apartment and gives him his first kiss and it’s the most perfect thing to exist.

Hibiki closes his eyes, breathes out through his nose, and decides to kiss back. His right hand lifts from the floor and ever so carefully perches on Yamato’s shoulder for support. The kiss continues and he feels his bottom lip licked and bitten at and it’s so amazing that he almost melts.

When the kiss ends, Yamato is still staring at him. Hibiki struggles to catch his breath. He’s never been happier.

“That was… nice.”

Yamato smirks, amusement over Hibiki’s observation, and chuckles lowly. “I suppose since you’re already going to get sick,” Yamato begins, his hand leaving Hibiki’s hair to trace along his neck and then collarbone, leaving hot white fire in its wake, promises of more to come, of hours yet to pass between them, of sweat laden flesh and hushed whispers between the sheets “I can endeavor to raise that nice to something more praiseworthy.”


End file.
